Origami art and two decades of blossoming among the folds of the Vietnamese soul

Nguyen Xuan Tung, artist and administrator of VOG, is a man of few words. But as he speaks of his relationship with origami, his expression brightens and words begin to spill, as though summoned by the act of folding itself. His storytelling, much like his craft, shifts between fluidity and hesitation, as if mimicking the crease and resistance of paper. “Giao Diem is inspired by the convergence of straight lines,” he explains. “To us origami artists, they are a familiar motif. The convex and concave, the incomplete and resolved folds, they reveal themselves through dotted paths, fragmented contours, and ultimately, the clarity of a straight line.”

In 2004–2005, origami enthusiasts in Vietnam quietly folded alone, their hands shaping paper in private sanctuaries. Many must have felt like a single line at a busy crossroad, unnoticed and solitary. It was Hiba, a passionate folder based in Ho Chi Minh City, who reached out—calling for likeminded souls from north and south to come together. From that call, the Vietnam Origami Group (VOG), also known as the Vietnam Origami Association, began to take shape.

Twenty years on, from one legendary fold to many

Twenty years have passed since those early days. Some have met Hiba; many have not. Little is known about him; his identity or his life remain something of a mystery. But what is certain is that this enigmatic figure laid the foundations of Vietnamese origami. From that first encounter, an intersection in every sense, straight lines began to meet and part, spreading outward with quiet determination. Through them, the life force of origami found its way across Vietnam and beyond, drawing people closer with the joy and passion that only paper, folded with intention, can evoke.

Stillness and movement, two apparent opposites, coexist not in conflict but in harmony. Origami, too, carries this dual nature: its tranquil surface conceals an undercurrent of fluid energy. At Giao Diem, these interwoven states are fully realised. One finds intricately detailed pieces such as Minotaur by artist Hoang Trung Thanh or Vampire and Angel by Dao Cuong Quyet. But just steps away, quieter forms await. Stripped of excess, they focus instead on emotion and essence—Rooster and Vietnamese Flag by Nguyen Xuan Tung, or Prayer by Dinh Truong Giang. Within these seemingly still folds lies an unspoken dialogue. Whether pared back or elaborately rendered, each piece reflects the artist’s own creative lens, shaped by how much they choose to give—or take away.

“To complete Vampire, I used the 22.5-degree molecular folding technique. Each triangle represents a molecule of the paper, each angle a multiple of 22.5 degrees,” explains Dao Cuong Quyet, visibly animated as he describes the intricate process behind one of his most complex works. The terminology may be unfamiliar to most, but it sparks fascination. Just hearing it hints at the obsessive precision involved. Not 22, not 23 or 25, but exactly 22.5 degrees—folded again and again until the impossible takes shape.

Quyet’s artistic wellspring flows from myth and fantasy; worlds that may not exist, but which invite boundless imagination. Angel, for instance, was born after he became absorbed in Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons. To give this celestial figure form, he applied the box pleating technique, dividing the paper into tiny square molecules, then coaxing the folds into life with a steady hand and singular artistic vision. The result is a work both powerful and delicate, right down to the figure’s hands, hair and wings.

Quyet’s creations, like the man himself, carry a certain disarming awkwardness—a kind of charm rooted in contrast. For all the intensity of his expression, each piece begins with stillness: long hours spent folding and refolding with obsessive care. “I won’t claim to be... normal,” he says with a laugh, “but I’m not exactly mad either. I go all in with my work. If I’m going to make something, it has to be different. The madness and the precision don’t cancel each other out. They coexist. And when the work is finished, I feel joy. I feel free. It’s a high, a kind of bliss.”

Quyet’s creative pursuits go beyond the folds of paper. In addition to his work with origami, he runs a multidisciplinary business and serves as stylist to acclaimed singer Tung Duong. “Tung Duong is a meticulous artist in his own right. For each performance, he asks me to design a unique microphone stand,” Quyet shares. “I apply origami folding techniques to these designs, and we’ve used them since 2016. Each model is different—tailored to the theme and the singer’s costume.” There is, perhaps, a quiet meeting of minds between Quyet’s methodical artistry and Tung Duong’s discerning taste. And so origami finds yet another setting—one far from stillness—beneath the glare of stage lights, surrounded by sound and spectacle.

Just beyond the section devoted to intricate, complex works, visitors encounter a markedly different space. Here, serenity holds sway. Two pieces in particular—Prayer by Dinh Truong Giang and Nguyen Tu Tuan—create a field of stillness, simplicity and light. They feel meditative, almost sacred, and carry a deeply calming energy.

At first glance, Prayer may not command attention in the same way as the more elaborate works. Yet with time, its quiet power emerges. The form is symmetrical, inviting interpretation. Some may see a figure deep in meditation, folds of clothing cascading softly; others might find the suggestion of a lotus flower, rendered with only the lightest touch. The folds are both strong and gentle, sparse yet refined. Despite the apparent simplicity, the shaping process is anything but.

According to the VOG administrator, “Dinh Truong Giang is currently overseas, but he has been with VOG for many years. His work leans towards the conceptual. To begin, the paper must be moistened to the right level, so the artist uses thicker, higher-quality material. Once softened, the paper can be bent and sculpted according to the artist’s vision. When it dries, it retains the intended form.”

These conceptual pieces reflect a worldview—philosophical, introspective—and move beyond craftsmanship into the realm of living art. “In origami, it’s not always easy to distinguish between a hobby and a true artwork,” says Nguyen Xuan Tung. “But for me, anything made with full commitment, something that becomes part of your life, is already a kind of art. And when emotion and inspiration are folded into each piece, it tells its own story. No two are alike.”

“To be one, to be unique, to be the first”—Dao Cuong Quyet echoes this sentiment. “Technology and AI are advancing rapidly, but they can’t replace the emotional subtlety needed in origami. Every model is a one-off. Each fold contains a moment, a feeling. You can try again, but it will never be quite the same. That’s the irreplaceable value of true art.”

Giao Diem brings together Vietnamese and international artists, each bringing a distinct perspective to the craft. The difference in approach is striking. Vietnamese artists tend to turn inward, exploring personal reflection and emotional nuance. Meanwhile, international artists lean towards outward expression, creating works with broader applications and universal themes.

Read more: Poet Tran Le Son Y: “Poetry is like a relative, and life echoes with laughter”

Vietnamese artists do not shy away from new encounters. Many have been, and continue to be, drawn to the idea of applying origami to practical life. At the same time, they remain deeply committed to preserving a distinct cultural identity. It is this path that artists like Xuan Tung and Dao Cuong Quyet are determined to follow. Origami may have arrived from abroad, but the spirit folded into Vietnamese paper must remain unmistakably its own.

Materials are often the first answer in the quest to place Vietnam on the world’s origami “fold map”. At Giao Diem, many works are made using local materials, particularly do paper. “We prioritise do paper and other materials produced in Vietnam. In the future, we’re considering projects to make our own do paper to better enhance the experience,” shared the administrator of the VOG website.

Vietnamese artists are still searching for genres that speak more profoundly of their heritage. From the early days, these “paper dreamers” have shaped dragons and bronze drums that pulse with national spirit. Rooster and Vietnamese Flag, both on display at the exhibition and created by Nguyen Xuan Tung, are no exception.

These two pieces reflect a certain quiet simplicity—rustic, honest, and deeply familiar. Rooster was folded in the Year of the Rooster, inspired simply by the animal’s symbolism that year. There is no elaborate backstory, no layered meaning. Yet in its own quiet way, the figure glows behind glass, conjuring a memory filled with innocence and sunshine. One can almost see a rooster, orange in the light, stretching to greet the morning in some sunlit corner of the countryside, a scene humble in scale but stirring in feeling.

Meanwhile, Vietnamese Flag, as its name suggests, evokes a national image that resonates deeply. The origami piece was completed in time for National Day 2007, born of a desire to channel love for country and homeland through the art of paper folding.

This love for one’s origins, for returning to the source, has found kinship among many others in the origami world. Each holiday, Xuan Tung is buoyed by messages from those who seek instructions on folding the flag. For them, it’s a way to celebrate national pride, expressed through a model that speaks in the language of paper.

That same reverence for origin lives in Dao Cuong Quyet. At first glance, his style suggests an “artistic flair with a Western sensibility”. Known for folding tales of myth and fantasy drawn from distant lands, he has more recently found himself drawn back to Vietnamese themes. “When we begin, we tend to look outward. But once we’ve learnt enough, we start turning back to the source. I want to work with do paper, and I’m also thinking about exploring materials from Dong Ho painting in the future.”

From materials to themes, from stillness to movement, from the outward gaze to the inward return, whatever direction these folds may take, and however emotions thread through them, each intersection holds a shared core. What remains, after all the converging and diverging, is the quiet wonder of human imagination meeting paper.

“Miracles never come easily. You have to learn to control, and focus on what you’re doing.” That’s the line a mother speaks to her son in Kubo and the Two Strings, teaching him to wield the magic of folded paper. The message holds true for origami itself, where hands work slowly, minds stay attentive, and patience turns paper into something extraordinary.

And while that miracle may never come easily, origami lovers fold on—steadily, tenderly—fuelled by craft, care and an unwavering love for the art.

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